


Tattoos

by Drakochan



Category: Exalted, Exalted: Rise of the Scarlet Throne
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:11:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1559468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakochan/pseuds/Drakochan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ayrema has learned to see his Moonsilver tattoos as something to resent, but his Sidereal partner Asvel wants to prove to him that they're a part of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tattoos

It still wasn't exactly what Asvel would describe as an appropriately romantic getaway, tucked into the tiny room at the inn, the only one they could afford while still getting lodging for everyone else too. It was barely larger than a closet. No, actually, Asvel was pretty sure some of the closets in his Yu-Shan house were larger than this. But it also had a bed, and Ayrema, who was pulling at the fastenings of Asvel's pants and oh there went his hands…

Asvel let his breath out in a quavering exhale, and felt the grin against his lips as Ayrema moved in for a rough kiss. Oh he was good at kissing… And other things. Things that made Asvel moan into Ayrema's mouth and sent sharp jolts up his spine. "Ay…"

"Hmm?"

" _Oh._ "

"Yeah?" A teasing purr. He could hear the grin in Ayrema's voice, and could not put two thoughts together enough to form the sentence he wanted to, so he drew back instead, which was enough to make Ay pause, his brows disappearing into disheveled bangs and his eyes that had taken on a darker sort of hue somehow, the quirk of his amusement tugging at the corner of his lips, just the one corner.

"I uh. I want to do something."

"Hm?" This time it was curiosity instead of the teasing tone, and Ayrema finally tugged his hands out of Asvel's waistband, which made it far easier to think and put words together.

"Just… Stay here a second?" He ran fingers through his hair as he slid off the edge of the bed, padded across the room. His eyes met Ayrema's for a moment, and then he turned away to blow out the candle with a sharp breath, leaving them in darkness except for the flicker of candlelight from the hallway under the crack in the door. "Okay, can you…" Gods, but this was embarrassing. He was grateful for the dark as he felt his cheeks flush. "Make your tattoos glow?"

"Sure?" Ayrema's voice was unsure, but Asvel felt him exhale a breath and then the room was suddenly lit with the pale glow of moonlight, the light racing across Ay's skin, illuminating the whirls of moonsilver tattoos until it finally reached the caste mark on his forehead. Asvel had slid back onto the edge of the bed, moving so he was straddling Ay's legs again.

He glanced up, meeting Ayrema's curious gaze, and there was still something of the self-conscious awkwardness about the tattoos in them. Asvel intended to fix that. He intended to fix that right now. He reached down, tugging at the fabric of Ayrema's shirt, lifting it up across his stomach to reveal the graceful glowing lines, casting shadows to the planes and dips of Ayrema's skin. The lines were smooth and strangely delicate, tracing up to his ribcage and down, hidden by the fabric of his pants. That could come later.. Asvel focused his attention reverently on a series of thin, graceful swoops that traced his ribs, down the planes of his stomach, fingertips tracing along the lines as he read their meaning. The tale of his lost family, of finding a replacement in the Silver Pact. It still didn't all make sense to him, couldn't quite make out what all the words were, worked into Ayrema's skin, part of him.

His gaze flicked up towards Ayrema's face, and there was astonishment in his slack jaw, eyes wide, brows raised, as if for the first time he realized that perhaps someone might find the tattoos worth looking at.

"You… don't mind, right?" He should have asked before. This was Ayrema's most private life, written on his skin. It was like part of his soul. Only not everyone could read it, like he did. He should have asked… How stupid of him.

"No, I don't mind. But why?" It had come up the last time they'd lain together, Asvel tracing the graceful silver lines down his throat, and Ayrema's fingers had caught his, and he looked away. Explained that they were just blemishes, he should ignore them. Asvel hadn't been able to put into words the shock he'd felt, the desire to explain that he thought they were breathtaking, and he wanted to see them.

So he'd decided instead to show him. It had just taken some time before they'd had privacy to do so, like now…

"Don't laugh at me." Asvel's tone was stern, brows creased in a solemn expression. Ayrema tilted his jaw, letting out a sigh as his eyes rolled when Asvel didn't let up.

"Fine, just tell me."

"They're part of you. I… I just want to know. I think they're..." No word quite summed it up. He paused, thoughtfully, then spoke a word in Old Realm that had been used to describe the splendor of the Unconquered Sun. Ayrema might not understand the word, but the meaning of it was clear in the syllables, all the grace and glory and beauty summed up concisely. Ayrema was still, the same stillness that usually prefaced his laughter, that glitter in his eyes, and Asvel felt his lips purse. Before Ay's laughter could break through his thin veneer of calm, Asvel dug a knuckle into the Lunar's side just below his ribcage, drawing a yelp, and the threatening laughter from his lips.

"Ow, god, Az, I'm sorry. Your face just now, I couldn't help it."

"You're an asshole." His scowl faltered at the look that immediately followed the accusatory curse, as Ayrema's mirth only grew. "Gods, you know that is not what I meant. You are ruining this whole thing."

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry. Do your thing Az." Ayrema's grin didn't fade, but it was almost reassuring to see the smile, after the self-conscious reaction to Asvel's desire to see the tattoos. Asvel realized he'd been staring, a soft smile mirrored on his own face as he shifted his attention back to Ayrema's shirt, tugging it further up, around Ayrema's shoulders, then up and off, so he could drop it to the floor beside the bed—more of a cot, really, but it served its purpose—and resume the trace of fingertips across bare, tattooed skin.

This time, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of the line, then traced it with fingertips, cheek against Ayrema's chest, feeling the change in his heartbeat at each whispering touch of his fingers, first up this line, then back down another, the planes of chest and stomach and muscles that were all at once solid and supple beneath his touch. The way Ay's stomach sucked in as he traced the graceful line that followed hip bone down beneath the waistline of his pants.

Asvel ran his hand back up Ayrema's side, tracing the lines down his arms and slid up to nestle his face in the crook of Ayrema's neck, laying a trail of kisses down the silver line, following it to the hollow of his throat, then down to where his shirt would cover the mark he set to making, to mark Ayrema in his own way… It was somehow perfect this way, how the marks he left would fade, but the writing on his skin would stay. Like his soul was laid bare, and yet in a language that none could read without the knowledge of its presence. He hummed against Ayrema's skin, pleased at the soft gasps and growls he drew with the touch of lips and tongue and breath. Fingers found his hip, tugging at the fabric there, and Asvel responded in kind, shifting, though this also meant he was out of the reach of those fingers, so they shifted, finding the waves of gold just behind his ear, closing around those.

Fingertips hooked over the waistline of Ayrema's pants, fastenings already undone, he tugged them down, shivering as each inch of skin exposed revealed more lines of moonsilver, graceful and endless it seemed, one feeding into the next graceful swoop. Each line, praise at his merits, ones held to esteem in the Silver Pact along with those that made Ayrema who he was. Asvel sighed against hot skin, a wordless prayer of thanks to those words, as if they set Ayrema's being into permanence. They did, in their own way… They were indescribably beautiful, the way they followed the lines of muscle and bone down his limb like branches or veins.

His fingers followed the line of tattoos down Ayrema's thigh, and couldn't help but smirk as he heard the sharp intake of breath from the other as fingertips drifted to the softer skin between his thighs. He emulated the motion on the other side where another trail of silver mirrored the left leg, his feather-light touches drawing a soft growl of impatience from Ayrema.

"Are you just gonna stare all night, or are we going to take advantage of this bed all to ourselves?"

"I'm enjoying the view," Asvel retorted easily, sliding down the bed, so that Ay's legs were on either side of his hips and he could finish tracing the last of the tattoos, the way they twisted down his calves and along the top of his feet to end in a series of dots and spirals.

The annoyed huff from the head of the bed made Asvel grin, eyes rolling as he crawled back up, sprawling across Ayrema's torso, nestling his face in the crook of Ay's neck, breathing in his scent, the scent that still lingered on his own clothes and skin most days, pressing a soft kiss and a nip there. Ayrema's legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his torso, rolling over so they lay side by side now, burying his face in Asvel's hair.

"I'm not gonna let you waste one more minute staring at this insane inkwork," he mumbled against Az's skull, the low rumble of his voice pleasant.

"You should stop calling them that. They're your stories. Your words. I can tell. She may have put the marks on you, but they're as much a part of you as your heart, or your skin, or…" He let a hand trail lower, sliding between their bodies to ghost along Ay's erection, a huff of breath that wasn't quite a groan ruffling Asvel's hair with a soft sound.

"Don't change the subject," Ayrema growled, that low, breathy rumble entering his words. "This is important."

"I thought the whole idea was to get me to stop talking about them," he murmured against Ayrema's neck, a sharp nip to the skin drawing a moan from the Lunar, then easing it with a light brush of tongue, sucking at it gently, just hard enough it would leave a mark. Ay liked it, and Az liked doing it. Fingernails bit into his back, the lean muscles shifting beneath the vague discomfort.

"Stop using your blinding Sidereal wit on me," Ayrema muttered in a breathy voice, hips arching into the soft touches that accompanied the nips at his neck, his next mark not quite so gentle. Asvel felt teeth worry at his ear, Ayrema shifting so his neck was out of reach and the momentary warning as he shifted his weight so he loomed over Asvel on the bed instead, the soft glow of his tattoos on his back casting a silvery light on the ceiling and walls around them. Asvel couldn't help but cast his gaze upwards, over Ayrema's shoulder.

"Hey," the gruff argument punctuated by the sulking expression on Ay's face made Asvel focus his attention back on Ayrema rather than the light from his tattoos, and was met with a rough kiss, possessive in its own way, and hips grinding down on his. He let out his breath into the kiss, and he felt Ayrema breathe it in, a soft moan in his exhale a moment later.

The next time Ayrema's hips raised, his hands yanked Asvel's pants down, and their lips never moved from one another as Asvel squirmed awkwardly out of them. Ayrema broke the kiss to press two fingers into his own mouth, sucking on them for a moment before his hand dropped again, the pale glow of moonsilver lighting the space between them as a finger pushed impatiently but still carefully into Asvel's entrance, drawing a shaking moan from the Sidereal's lips. Ayrema's mouth had moved, trailing down Asvel's throat, never quite lingering long enough to leave marks on his skin, as if that was Asvel's right and he couldn't do the same.

There were other ways the Lunar claimed him.

Like with that precise shift of fingers within him, brushing against that place that made him arch up into Ayrema's body, arms straining against his back, and pulled moans that felt like they originated somewhere in his stomach, coming from the sharp jolts of ecstasy that met every movement.

Ayrema sat back, just enough so that Asvel could see the entire expanse of the tattoos down his torso, could follow the lines down his arm to where his hand disappeared beneath Asvel. His motions stopped, the tattoos' glow showing as the Lunar tilted his head slightly, staring down at his lover's body sprawled before him.

"What, Ay?"

"You're so lovely," he murmured into the dark, his free hand following the line of Asvel's side, down his thigh, across his calf to pull Asvel's ankle up, placing it gently atop his shoulder as he carefully added the second finger to the first, lingering in the preparation as he always did, so careful not to hurt the Sidereal, as if he might break him. Asvel left his shoulders twisted so that he could still look up at Ayrema for a bit longer, head pressing back into the pillow, a hand gripping the pillow beside his temple, eyes clenching shut at another jolt of pleasure, teeth biting into his lip. Heated breath and the press of fingertips into his thigh, a brush of lips to the back of his knee, almost ticklish if it weren't for the haze of other sensations that were so much more pressing… Asvel just nodded, a wordless confirmation to the question, the single word that Ayrema would speak a moment later anyway. "Ready?"

Asvel shifted his shoulder off the bed, so he was laying mostly on his side, his leg hooked over Ay's shoulder, fingers finally releasing their grip on the pillow to shift to the bed sheet, looking over his shoulder and smiling faintly at the crease of Ayrema's brow, the concentration as he lined himself up. The smile faded a moment later as his eyes clenched shut again, a loud moan that trailed slowly off as, inch by delicious inch, Ayrema buried himself in Asvel, only stopping once he was hilt-deep, taking a few deep breaths, harsh in the dark room, his hand running along Asvel's leg, the one that tensed around his shoulder in kind.

Ayrema's cheek, rough with stubble, scraped along his leg as he felt Ay take a few shallow shifts of his hips, so that both of them could adjust to it. A moment later, Ayrema shifted, one of his legs moving so his knee was propped just in front of Asvel's other leg, raising both their hips so that when he angled his next thrust, it was already brushing that place inside him that felt like stars exploding behind his eyelids.

"Fuck," Asvel breathed, shifting his hips back as much as he could with what little leverage he had, eyes unfocused when he finally opened them, the moonsilver tattoos blurring in his vision as slowly Ayrema's thrusts sped up, not hitting that spot with every thrust, but not with any regular pattern either, keeping Asvel off balance and drawing loud cries from his lover's lips in contrast to Ayrema's quieter utterances. He fell into Old Realm unconsciously, endearments and pleas for every shift of hips.

Asvel felt like he couldn't get traction, fingers gripping the sheets in a hold that made his knuckles ache distantly, and even his leg hooked around Ay's shoulder slid against his skin as sweat broke out across both their bodies. He was lost in the sensation of Ayrema, in the anticipation of the next thrust against those nerves that set his body ablaze, made his fingertips and toes tingle.

"Asvel." His name was a breath, a prayer in the dark, and Asvel opened his eyes, focusing finally on the faint features of Ay's face that he could see against the glow of his tattoos. Asvel knew what came next, his voice that gruff tone that always meant he was close, but he always, always put Az first. "Come for me," he breathed in that rumbling tone that made Asvel's bones melt, and the next few thrusts were angled just so, that every burst of sensation hadn't fully subsided when the next hit, like waves building up and up and up until finally…

Asvel tensed, body rigid even as it arched had, his orgasm sudden and overwhelming, not even realizing that no sound came out as the waves pulsed through him, ending there where Ayrema was buried in him. It felt like it might never end, and the shallow thrusts that Ayrema gave only prolonged it until he finally felt his body give out, settling against the sheets as muscles trembled, too weak to actually support him.

Ayrema shifted, his last few thrusts apparently enough to bring him over the edge, a small last moan from Asvel's lips as he felt the heat of the Lunar's release before Ayrema too settled onto the bed, breath hot and ragged against Asvel's leg, still looped up around his shoulder.

He reached out with a hand, finding Ayrema's hand that had fallen on Asvel's hips to angle him just so, but now he gently removed it from his waist, fingers lacing into Ayrema's. The Lunar finally withdrew, then slumped not quite boneless half atop the Sidereal, Asvel's arm trapped beneath him

"So you really think they're…" Ayrema's voice was quiet, and the pause was not the end of his thought from the tone of it. He finally spoke a single word, a rough approximation of the word Asvel had spoken earlier regarding Ay's tattoos. He butchered it horribly with the rough, guttural accent of his, but close enough that Asvel knew.

"Yeah, definitely," Asvel said, voice a bit raw.

"You're an idiot for it. But think what you want…" he murmured, in the tone of voice Asvel had come to learn meant that he didn't entirely disregard Asvel's opinion, that maybe he had a point, he just didn't want to admit it out loud. Asvel smiled into the dark.

"Good," he mumbled back against Ayrema's hair, and let his fingertips trail lines down, then up again, and repeated, across Ayrema's shoulder blade. He had all night to convince Ayrema, after all… Even if he didn't wake up with that shame for the marks across his body wrought in those beautiful lines of silver, he didn't hate them like he did before. Wasn't so ashamed of them anymore… It was a start.


End file.
